She's Like Water
by Anime-Angel-Ash
Summary: Sometimes they like to pretend that those words were never said. Submission for livejournal's hetchallenge.


Shuyin, listen. Yevon's issued a proclamation.

Proclamation?

Yes. After . . . well, after the attack, he's realized that we have to deal with Bevelle. We can't wait for peaceful negotiations anymore.

It had been so long since he'd last been in the water. Not since that match at the stadium, the one that had been going on when Bevelle had made their move. All he could remember about it was being extremely confused (everyone was screaming, but not in the good way; what was going on?), a flash of fiery red, and, all around him, the sound of something bursting. Then, he was fading in and out of consciousness on the street outside, fuzzy blobs of various hues leaning over him and screaming at each other. Or maybe it wasn't the street. Maybe they weren't blobs. Maybe they were screaming. He couldn't really remember; not that well.

He hadn't gone anywhere near any substantial amount of water since then. Not a river, not the ocean, not another sphere, nothing. However, it wasn't necessarily because of the stadium. One measly explosion couldn't keep him from blitz for very long. It was more a byproduct of the event that had landlocked him.

"Shuyin?" came Lenne's voice, quickly pulling him from his thoughts and, simultaneously, away from the tiny bit of sleep that was finally started to creep in on him. Sighing in resignation, Shuyin slowly rolled onto his side to face her, blinking near-sleep out of his eyes. Silently, he watched as his brunette bedmate reached back toward the headboard, stretching and arching with the air of a lazy coeurl, the sheets artfully sliding off of her nude form.

"Hmm?" he droned in return. His reflexes quicker than his voice would suggest, he yielded to a mischievous impulse and reached over, trailing his fingers across her exposed stomach and breasts. Letting out an indignant little noise, she jerked beneath his fingers, then turned and fixed him with a mock-scornful glare. "That's for waking me up," he joked, tracing a slow, meandering spiral down past her navel.

"You weren't asleep," she said as she propped herself up on her elbows, casually grabbing his hand to halt its descent. However, there was a hint of a question in her voice, and Shuyin couldn't help but smile at that. It really was a strange combination she had going on, both taunting and considerate. Cute, really.

"You're right," he agreed, pulling his hand back and rubbing the corners of his eyes. "So, what's up?"

"It feels like too early to be sleeping, don't you think?" she said, sitting up and kneeling beside him, the sheets pooling in her lap. "We should go do something."

"Anything specific in mind?" he asked. Flipping over again, he reached underneath the bed and, after a bit of groping, pulled out his old, waning chronosphere. 23:08. She was right, the blitz-fueled partier in him said. It was _way_ too early to be snoozing already.

"Just one thing," Lenne replied, sliding off the bed and gathering up her clothes, a mischievous smile sneaking onto her face. "I think you'll like it."

---

It took the stadium blowing up for him to figure out that we have a problem? Well good for his highness, finally getting it.

I know. It's late, but better late that never. Just, please, listen. I need to tell you something. You—you need to know.

_Lenne? _

He'd never really noticed that Lenne's building had a basement floor. Not consciously, anyway. Admittedly, it was a bit hard to completely miss the giant, black 'B' that sat right beneath the button for the ground floor. Still, he'd never given it too much thought. Nothing interesting in a basement, anyway. Thus, he was a bit surprised when he boarded the elevator after Lenne and, reaching for the buttons, found the one for the basement already lit up.

"Okay, so we're not going _that_ far," Lenne admitted, shrugging apologetically, though the smile never left her face. "But I still think you'll like it. Trust me."

From there, the elevator opened into an eerily empty hallway, the likes of which he didn't often see in bustling Zanarkand. Stark white and lit by muted (and occasionally flickering) florescent lights, it felt unpleasantly barren, and Shuyin could feel his brow wrinkle in confusion as Lenne led him down it. Where were they going, again?

"I don't come down here much," Lenne said as she stopped in front of a white door that was nearly lost in the vast expanse of white wall on either side of it. Grabbing the knob, Lenne seemed to hold her breath as she gave it an uncertain turn, then let out a short sigh of relief when it yielded. "I actually just figured out this was here the other day," she continued, pushing the door open just the slightest bit and turning her attention to the latch. Reaching down, she pulled a small, clear piece of tape off of it, and Shuyin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. "I guess there are some health nuts in this building that keep it clean."

"And they don't want to let you in?" he teased, unable to help himself.

"It's after hours." Chuckling, she stepped inside and glanced back at him over her shoulder, playfully putting a finger to her lips. "I won't tell if you don't."

"My lips are sealed," he assured, drawing his fingers across his mouth for added emphasis.

"Anyway," Lenne said, bracing her hands against door and frame, blocking him from seeing what was inside. "I found this the other day, and it kind of made me think of you." Before he could ask what exactly she meant by that, she took his hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him.

W-what? No. No, th-that can't be right. It can't! It has to be a misunderstanding. It—! 

After the blinding white of the hallway, the blackness of inside of the room left Shuyin just short of blind. It was almost pitch black, only the slightest bit of light trickling in from a few frosted glass windows high on the opposite wall. Hardly charitable those things were, as far as light went. Blinking rapidly and turning from side to side, he paused, waiting for his eyes to fully adjust.

His sense of smell, however, needed no such adjusting, and that quickly helped to give him a good idea of what kind of place he was in. The smell of chlorine was everywhere, almost overpowering. There was only one sort of place with that kind of scent.

"It's not exactly an arena," Lenne said, practically twirling as she moved around him, clasping her hands behind her back and letting an ear-to-ear smile engulf her face, "but I thought you might like it, anyway."

One thing was certain: it definitely was _not_ a blitzball arena. As his eyes finally adjusted to the meager light that came in through permanently fogged windows, he saw a small pool in the center of the room, probably not even thirty feet long. Immediately, he was reminded of the pools they had at the training center, for little kids just learning the skill and pros who were getting their sea legs back after an injury. Not a pleasant association, by far, and Shuyin could feel himself flinching back at the thought of it, nostrils flared.

Lenne, however, didn't seem to notice his discontent (maybe _her_ eyes hadn't fully adjusted yet). Grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers with his, she pulled him along, leading him up to the pool's edge. "You haven't gotten to do much swimming lately, have you?" she said, cleverly skirting around the 'why' as she kicked off her boots.

"Naw, not really," Shuyin admitted, rubbing the back of his head and shrugging indifferently. "Haven't really had the time fo—"

He should've seen it coming. He really should have. The mischievous edge to her voice really ought to have been enough to give away her intent, not to mention the fact that she'd just none-too-subtly guided him to the very edge of a pool. Throw in the hand that had just crept rather suspiciously to the center of his back, and it was just way too obvious. Unfortunately, hindsight was twenty-twenty, and now he was soaked to the bone and dazedly treading water, a perfectly dry Lenne bent over with laughter on the pool's rim.

"Hey!" he cried, coughing and huffily shoving bits of soaking wet hair out of his face. "What was that for?"

"Well, it didn't look like you were going to get in on your own," Lenne answered cheekily, a victorious grin on her face as she crouched down and folded her arms over her knees. "Thought you might need a little persuasion."

"I might have got in," he retorted indignantly, folding his arms over his chest and giving her his best irritated glare. The chlorine was already burning his eyes. He'd be feeling _that_ if he tried to shut them within the next few hours. "You don't know."

However, Lenne was apparently unfazed by this ultimate show of anger, one hand flying to her mouth as a chuckle escaped her throat. She looked incredibly cute like that, he had to admit, which just made him even more irritated. Trying to lower his defenses with cuteness, huh? How dare she!

"Don't be mad," she said sweetly, reaching out a friendly hand to help him back to dry land. "It's all in good fun."

Ha. So much for him being the oblivious one. As far as naiveté went, Lenne definitely won this night's round. It was infinitely too easy to take that extended hand with a sly smirk, _accidentally_ hold a bit too tight, and pull a little too hard. The look on her face, eyes wide with horrified realization, was worth suffering her trickery ten times over. Similarly, being allowed his own triumphant laugh was worth the scornful look he got when she broke the surface, coughing and pouting before sending a splash his way. "Now we're even," he smarmily decreed as he dodged the spray of saturated antiseptic and swam closer, kissing the bridge of her nose in a show of goodwill. That earned him another splash.

Fortunately, she couldn't stay angry for long, particularly if it hadn't been a genuine irritation in the first place. She especially couldn't in the face of another sweet, apologetic kiss. Splashing him a third time—this time with a smile on her face—she pulled from his embrace and lay back, floating idly. "I was going to get in, anyway."

"I'm sure," he answered teasingly and, pausing to see if Lenne was going to continue with her splashing barrage, dove under, gliding aimlessly through the water.

I wish it was. I . . . I really, really do. But . . .

This wasn't _so_ bad, he silently admitted as he popped up on the pool's opposite side, resting his arms along the lip of it. Sure, the chlorine burned and took away the water's natural, far more pleasant scent. This pool wasn't as big as he was used to, either, nor as conveniently shaped. That was all right. Glancing over his shoulder at Lenne, he watched as she floated there serenely, relaxed and blissfully unaware of her surroundings. With no further need for encouragement, his earlier display of peace was promptly forgotten in the time it took an impish smile to spread across his face.

Silently, he dove back under and propelled his way over to her, a Dinofish stalking its unsuspecting prey. After pausing for a moment to contemplate his next move (theatrical chin-stroking and all; it was fun to be dramatic sometimes), he silently reached up, flicking his fingers along the back of her thigh.

The sought reaction was almost immediate, Lenne's once relaxed form immediately whipping into panicked, flailing action as she scrambled to get away from whatever it was that could be assailing her in an otherwise empty pool. Only his blitzball-honed speed saved him from a brutal kick to the head, a painful situation with any girl, and potentially fatal with this one. All that dancing onstage had done wonders for her leg muscles.

"Shuyin!" she was squealing as he emerged, her hands already flattened for maximum splashing efficiency. "I thought we had a truce!"

"All's fair in love and wa—" Shuyin started to respond before finding himself with a face-full of pool water. Oh, below the belt. How could he not retaliate, after an underhanded blow like that?

Unfortunately for him, the two of them were pretty well matched. He may have had more experience around water, but she apparently had a natural talent for flailing in just the right way to hit him where he wasn't guarded. Must have been all that dancing again. It'd made her quick, and very good at flailing. The fact that it gave her a leg up on endurance didn't make things look particularly good for him, either.

Once again, speed was his friend when he spotted an opening (she was facing away from him for a split second, sinking her hand deep for a broad, powerful strike) and dove forward, seizing her free wrist and holding it fast. Then, taking advantage of her moment off-guard, he snatched up the other, clutching them up near her ears where she was left little to no mobility. It took only one casual step to have her up against the pool's edge, effectively pinning her in place.

"You cheater!" she whined, struggling fiercely against his hold. Not once did he yield, and eventually she surrendered, growing still in his grasp and jutting her lip out sulkily.

Shuyin, for his part, couldn't stop smirking. He had never been a courteous victor, no matter how much they had tried to beat the practice into him back in his peewee blitzball league days. Winning just felt too good to be polite about it.

But then, yet again, she had the cuteness factor on her side, and the mopey look she was giving the water off to his right was quick to melt his victory-laden heart. Stretching his fingers out straight to symbolize her permitted freedom, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her water-chapped lips. "Aw, come on," he said in his most suave voice as he brushed his nose against hers. "Don't be mad. It's all in fun." Gracing those lips with one more kiss, he made to step back, allowing her her freedom again.

Except he couldn't. She wouldn't let go of his hands. And she wouldn't break the kiss. And, as his brows slanted in confusion, he could have sworn he felt her legs slide oh-so-stealthily around his middle, pulling him closer. Oh. _Oh_. So, she played dirty. Well, he could play that way, too.

You can't do this, Lenne. Please, please, for the love of—for the love of everything! Please, don't do this!

If he'd been bothered by the chlorine before, he was downright infuriated with it by now. As strong as the stench of it was, it made it incredibly difficult to smell _her_, even as he was pushing her up against the pool wall and leaning in, vying to get closer. Cursing under his breath—something Lenne probably attributed to the exploits of her tongue, in which case she was only partially right—he broke from her just long enough to bury his face against in crook of her neck, into a mane of hair made clumpy and tangled by the water. Breathing deep, he caught that familiar scent that had so eluded him, and he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction against her skin. Just like water, he'd take the smell of her over that unnatural peroxide any day.

His breath hot and ragged, he went to work at her neck, kissing along it to the cumbersome strap of her shirt, which he regarded with no small amount of annoyance. His hands still clasped tightly in hers, he didn't have any particularly good means of getting it out of the way, as much as he wanted to. He was more than a little desperate to do the same to the rest of her clothes as well, the soaking wet and impossibly thin material practically begging to be ripped away as fast and as soon as possible. But, he reasoned, he'd take it slow. The payoff would be worth it. Drawing her out was always so much fun.

Unfortunately, like when one thinks himself invincible and chooses to tempt the tides, there was a bit of a risk involved. Namely, that she'd be willing to play his game. And she almost always was.

"And you call me a cheater," he practically growled as she curled her fingers even more tightly around his, holding them captive and keeping them from more opportune exploits.

"That's right," she purred right back, a giggle bubbling out of her throat and breaking against his lips. "And an opportunist, too."

"Guilty," he admitted without the slightest trace of shame as he finally pulled his hands free, reached beneath the water, lifted her up, and hastily set her down on the pool's edge. Half an instant later, he was up and out as well, moving as alluringly as he could manage while climbing out of a pool. Ignoring the snort of laughter that Lenne tried to hide behind a hand, he pounced, the tile grout scratching his palms as he landed. "Nothing wrong with that," he said with a smirk, hands on either side of her shoulders, knees trapping her hips, and the delightful confidence that he'd won this round.

I know it's hard. But I—I have to. I have to do this. Shuyin, just . . . just please try to understand. Please. 

Lenne however, was not to be underestimated. As opposed to his technique and manner, which was straightforward and blunt, hers was a misleading one, far quieter and harder to read. Where he would never bend at the urging of another, forever rigid and inflexible, she was nearly his reverse. She would always bend, as she did now under his bulk and smug grin, seemingly defeated in their little game of cat and mouse. However, it was a pretended defeat, for his smirk was reflected equally on her face as she laced her fingers behind his neck, dragging him down with her. Always bending, but never once breaking.

There's no way I'm letting you go. No way! 

She was like that as she finally, _finally _started to peel off those annoyingly inhibiting clothes of hers, writhing her way out of them with an aching slowness that only had him kissing the exposed spots with that much more vigor when she was finally through. She was like that when he turned the full force of his teeth and tongue and calloused hands on her, not a single whimper or whine passing her lips (he didn't mind that _too_ much, though, given that he'd learned to look for signs of her satisfaction in other places; the feel of her nails digging into his back or hair was telling enough, not to mention how fast her pulse was beating beneath his lips). And she was like that when she peaked, clinging to him and riding it like a meandering wave, and it wasn't too long until he was dragged under, too.

Shuyin, I know—I know it hurts. If I had my wish, then none of this would be happening, you know that. But . . .

"So, was I right?" she asked with a devious smile as she finally finished redressing, stepping back into her boots and tugging her skirt down just another inch or two. "Do you like it here?"

"It's a pretty good place," he admitted with a calculatedly nonchalant wave of his hand and a defiant, half-hidden smile. Trailing the sole of his boot over the water's surface, he gave it a kick, the droplets he sent up twinkling in the weak light before falling back into the collective. "But next time, I'm taking you to a blitz sphere. _Then_ you'll see what real water is like. Not this,"—he gestured toward the pool, pausing to think of the proper word—"glorified, waterlogged, bleach stuff."

She apparently appreciated his descriptive efforts, her laugh echoing about the room. Reaching him in two quick strides, she smiled up at him warmly, toying with one of his shirt's various clasps. "I'd like that," she said sincerely.

"I figured you would," he said, smiling suavely as her fingers snuck up along the back of his neck and she kissed him one more time.

Too bad that it would never happen.

It'll be all right. You'll see. Everything will turn out. But for now let's . . . let's just make the most of right now, okay?

"Want to come back sometime?" she asked, the tip of his nose brushing his cheek. "I'm pretty sure I can get you a key."

"Only if you come, too," he replied, making sure to speak with a carefree note, rather than the burdened one that was threatening to creep into his voice. There was a reason he hadn't been near a substantial amount of water for a while, after all.

Y—you just want to pretend that nothing's wrong?!

"All right. It's a deal," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. "But for now, we'd better get out of here before somebody finds us."

He wanted to say that she worried too much, that nobody would bother coming down here and checking the place out in the middle of the night. Simultaneously, he also had a distinct urge to play it up and talk about how they were _bound_ to get caught on the way up and how she really should have screamed his name a bit quieter if she hadn't wanted to be found (a bit of a risky move, admittedly, because she'd probably shoot right back with a more truthful claim about how he'd made far more noise than she had).

And yet, he didn't, because he was far too focused on watching her. A little strange, admittedly, but he sort of couldn't help it. The way she was moving had a sort of grace, a flow. Sort of like water. Like the way she laughed was kind of like bubbles, or the way she loved was a bit like a flood, or the way she turned to him and smiled now was kind of like breaking the surface after being under for a really long time.

This can't be happening. It just—it can't.

Like the way that, just like water, she was slipping through his fingers.

Don't worry. It'll be okay. I promise.


End file.
